The Art of Letter Writing
by Tiramisu Mudcake
Summary: READ ME! HGDM Hermione stared at him. I hope you're enjoying the view, Draco said quietly. She swallowed. Quite. Featuring a bad boy Draco, an unassuming Harry, and a confused Hermione, who is torn between the two.


**The Art of Letter Writing**

By TiramisuMudcake

**Summary:** After Hogwarts sex god Draco Malfoy tricks Hermione Granger into falling in love with him and receiving scintillating love letters from her; he strikes a deal – lull Harry Potter to her like he did with her and break his heart; and then the letters will burn.

**Note:** Sorry, but this does not follow on after the plotline of _Half Blood Prince_ – I prefer my Dumbledore alive; not anything else.

**Chapter 1 – The Recount**

_Longevity count:_ 60 days exactly

_No. of snogs:_ 342

_No. of snogs in corridor:_ 21

_No. of snogs at night:_ 208

_No. of snogs at night in corridor:_ 54

_No. of snogs – miscellaneous:_ 59

"And what, exactly, is _this_, Miss Granger?" Hermione's eagle feather quill dropped instantly onto the rolled out scroll in front of her. A large, black splotch started spreading slowly over a small area on the page.

Professor Severus Snape walked over to her desk and picked up the scroll with a look of disdain and disgust on his face. Another look – probably smugness – flitted over his face as he read the paper. "I'm sorry; Miss Granger, but the details of your illicit love life are of no importance or appropriateness in the Potions dungeons."

Hermione gulped and felt her cheeks stain red as the Slytherins laughed loudly at their head of house's biting comment; the Gryffindors shooting them dirty glares. If only he knew _really _how appropriate snogging was in the Potions dungeons …

It had started after Christmas in her sixth year. Once again Hermione Granger's conscious had taken hold of her, and she was helping Neville – who was in a combinational state of both emotional and physical breakdown – in preparing his Pus Reducing Potion; hers having been left to simmer comfortably, as the method stated.

"Now, you've got to chop these Blanksby roots finely – _finely_ – and be careful not to cut yourself there; any blood will ruin the entire potion …" she had advised as Neville attempted to simply pick up the knife. It was shaking dangerously. "It's OK, Neville; it's OK … yes that's right, stop shaking now. It's alright. Now, cut the roots _finely _... yes; very good."

"Miss Granger," the same, dangerously silky voice had cut through her instructions. "How many times have I told you to keep to your own work?"

'_Too many_.' Hermione thought to herself as she apologised to Snape.

"Apologise you might, Miss Granger, but the next time I catch you trying to assist Mr Longbottom here in an abysmal attempt to get him out of inevitable trouble, I will give you detention."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said steadily, returning to stir her potion slowly. She was already thinking about drowning Snape in her Pus Reducing Potion.

"I'm sorry for getting you into trouble, Hermione." Neville muttered out of the side of his mouth as he added in his (finely chopped) Blanksby roots to the cauldron.

"It's OK, Neville. Snape is just a –"

"_ARGH_!" Neville shrieked in a high pitched, girly tone as his knife skidded out of place and slashed his finger.

"Neville!" Hermione abandoned her potion and was already tending to the wound when Snape had gotten around to them.

"Oh dear, Mr. Longbottom's potion seems to be ruined," Snape said in a dull, but satisfied tone as he pointed to the single drop of red liquid dropping into the cauldron. In an instant, the calm blue colour changed a cloudy grey, before turning clear.

Neville howled at the pain of his finger, as well as the demise of his potion.

"It's fine, Neville, you can re-do the potion, you just need to –"

"Miss Granger!" Snape snapped sharply. "What did I say about assisting Longbottom further in his potion making?"

"But sir, I was merely –"

"You were merely getting yourself into trouble!" Snape said, his mouth forming a thin line. "Detention, tonight, 8 o'clock in the dungeons. _Do not _be late; otherwise I will be forced to assign you further detentions."

"Yes, sir," Hermione said reluctantly, hoping that he caught the dirty look she had given him.

"Now, Longbottom, escort yourself to the Hospital Wing," Snape continued on in a bored tone. "I'm sure that you're a big boy now; you can go by yourself."

"I don't know about that," Draco Malfoy muttered to his pair of cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. They guffawed thickly.

"As for the rest of you, get back to work. Don't let Mr. Longbottom's usual display of negligence put you off your Potion making – not that a group of dunderheads could actually ever accomplish anything." Snape said in his normal manner, before progressing back to his desk.

At 8 o'clock precisely, Hermione rapped on the Potions Masters door.

"Enter," A voice said, and Hermione pushed the heavy iron barrier forth. She found Snape sitting at his desk, which was strewn with papers, finishing a conversation with none other than the school's resident snarky sex god - Draco Malfoy. The walls were dark and looked damp; one had a row of about 20 cauldrons lined up on it. Another had fragile, old paintings hanging off it.

"Ahh, Miss Granger, good to see that you are finally on time for once." Snape's lips curled upwards in their usual cruel manner. He turned to Draco. "We're done here for now, Mr Malfoy."

As Draco got up, so did Snape. He turned to face the bookshelf behind him.

"Watch yourself; Granger," Draco snarled at Hermione, his features scrunching together unpleasantly.

"Will do," Hermione replied sarcastically.

The door clicked shut and Hermione was left with Snape, who was still prowling over the books with his eyes in the dimly lit chamber. He suddenly swished around, his robes billowing. It made a small, cold breeze travel towards her. She rubbed her arm.

"Miss Granger," he started; his voice deadly, his gaze bored yet malicious at the same time. "Since you find it extremely interesting to disobey direct orders, and consequently cause that unfortunate … debacle with Mr Longbottom; I see it very fitting that you clean out all the dirty cauldrons lined up against the wall. Without magic."

Oh, God.

"All of them?" she asked haltingly.

"No; every fifth one!" Snape snapped – it was obviously his idea of sarcasm. Hermione didn't appreciate it much. She set to work.

Wryly, halfway through the job, Hermione noticed that the cauldrons she was scrubbing belonged to those of her classmates. She had recognised Harry's when she applied the toothbrush to the outside. On the side of the cauldron, just under the rim, Harry had scratched in the initials _HP_ in his shaky handwriting.

Snape seemed to gather that Hermione had finally realised that she was cleaning Slytherin cauldrons as well; and so he smiled evilly.

She had gotten up to about three quarters of the cauldrons when there was a voice from the fireplace. It was so cold in the dungeons that the fire had barely reached her to keep her warm. Even a spot that was supposed to radiate heat looked grim and despairing; the coal and black pokers were standing ominously next to the burning flame.

"Severus," a dulcet tone it was. Hermione recognised it to be that of Professor McGonagall's. Snape looked up from his papers and walked towards the fire.

"Good evening, Minerva." He said curtly.

"Good evening to you, too," she said. "There's being a quick staff meeting held – Albus wants to talk about some new issues in the school."

"Oh?" Snape asked, raising his eyebrow slightly. Hermione scrubbed a little less so she could hear properly. "Anything of interest? Scrub harder, girl, you're not going to get the grime off otherwise!' Snape said sharply to Hermione after pausing slightly.

"No, not really," McGonagall replied. Hermione could almost see her shrugging her shoulders. "It's mostly the uninteresting things – uniform, sports, disciplinary action …"

"Yes, yes," Snape said, irritable. He looked sharply at Hermione after McGonagall's head disappeared from the fireplace. "I trust that you will be responsible enough to carry out your detention unsupervised." It was more of a statement than a question. She nodded briefly in response.

"I'll be back shortly. If I catch you doing anything …_ suspicious_ … at all, then you will be scrubbing pots for a week." He sauntered over to the door. "And if I find that some of the supplies in my store room are missing, then I will know exactly who it was."

"I thought you already knew," Hermione countered softly. Snape appeared to have heard.

"Do not, if you value your life, give me any reason to present hard hitting evidence of your _crime_." Hermione barely considered nicking a few bits of boomslang skin a crime, but before she could protest, Snape was out of the door, robes billowing for effect.

"Git," she muttered to herself as she returned to a cauldron, clutching the toothbrush tightly in her hand.

..:--:..

Hermione had been scrubbing in silence for about ten minutes when there was a light rapping at the door. She knew immediately that it wasn't Snape; who knocks on their own door before coming in? Hermione set the toothbrush down and was fumbling around in her robes for her wand, until …

Blast! Stupid Snape had taken it so that she could comply with the 'no magic' rule.

"This is great," she muttered to herself. She was unarmed; in a small, secluded area where nobody could hear her scream; and all she had to protect herself with was a mangy, black stained toothbrush which was covered in Blanksby root juices.

The door started to creak open; and Hermione instinctively sprinted for Snape's desk. She dived just in time. All she could see now was a pair of shiny booted feet. They approached the desk in nearly broken movements. The owner of the feet was obviously arrogant.

"Professor Snape, sir?" she heard Draco Malfoy's familiar voice echo around the chamber.

Oh, bugger woe.

The last person she needed right now to enter the room was Draco Malfoy. Hopefully if she stayed silent he would suffocate from his own snobbish attitude … that, or he would impale himself on one of the pokers next to the fireplace in a tragic accident.

Hermione crossed her fingers.

"Tell me, do you find the view underneath the table interesting?" Draco asked, leaning against a chair and smiling in a serene and mocking way.

Obviously, the finger thing didn't work.

Clearing her throat, Hermione emerged from underneath the table and into a straight pose. "What do you want, Malfoy?"

"I was merely innocently wondering why you were underneath the table,"

"I doubt you were ever innocent," Hermione muttered to herself more than anyone, and then moved towards the cauldrons again. She started scrubbing vigorously at the pot, imagining its surface to have the image of Draco Malfoy's head, and she was trying to rid it of his cruel face.

Not that she thought it looked cruel _all_ the time.

Harry had looked indignant and shocked when she had told him that she found Draco Malfoy attractive – albeit 'mildly', so that Harry wouldn't go beat him up to get him to look 'mildly (read: horrifically) injured'.

"You _like_ him?" his mouth was open in disbelief and his head shook about as he tried to comprehend it. "But he's so … slimy." True, Hermione had to give him credit for pointing that out. She would have also accepted 'snobby', 'selfish', 'arrogant', 'immature' and/or 'idiotic'.

Ron didn't even know; Hermione was almost certain it would destroy him and ruin their friendship completely … or what was left of it. She knew that Ron carried a secret torch for her – she'd have to be a mandrake potted in three feet of hippogriff dung not to have noticed.

"Do you _mind_?" she asked irritably; Draco had been watching her scrub the cauldron.

"Not really, no." he replied, leaning forward slightly so he could see down her top; just to make her angry. She gave him an annoyed look. "Don't stop because I'm here, Granger. I rather enjoy seeing you struggle."

"Kind soul you are," she remarked angrily as she resumed scrubbing, this time with less vigour. There were a few minutes of scrubbing noises, until Hermione stopped. "Are you just going to stay here? Surely, you've got better things to do with your time than to watch me scrub a pot."

"You'd think so, wouldn't you?" he asked, crossing his arms.

"What are you even doing here?" Hermione questioned, setting down the toothbrush.

"For your information, _Granger_," Draco said the last word spitefully, "I'm here to ask my head of house a very important question. And seeing as it is a very important question, I'm going to stay here until he comes back."

Hermione made an angry noise in the back of her throat. Draco tilted his head slightly, and raised an eyebrow, as if he were proposing a challenge.

Hermione gulped mentally. He was leaning against a chair with his arms casually crossed and with one foot crossed over the other. The fire was still crackling, sending a dark orange glow over his white coloured face, which looked like it had never seen the sun. His hair was slightly dishevelled, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, despite it being rather cold in the dungeons.

At that exact moment, Hermione Granger wanted nothing more than to simply snog Draco Malfoy senseless.

"I hope you're enjoying the view," he said quietly.

Hermione swallowed. "Quite," she said. Draco's eyebrows went up. Since when did Hermione Granger get guts?

He started walking towards her. No, not walking … more like stalking.

"You're the adventurous type, aren't you, Granger?" he asked as he approached slowly.

"I could be," Hermione replied.

"Show and tell," Draco remarked.

All of a sudden, there was a flurry of dark brown hair and a clattering noise from both a cauldron and a toothbrush covered in Blanksby root juice falling over.

Hermione couldn't take it anymore – she was sick of just staring at Draco all day long and not doing anything about it; sick of wishing if she could, even if it were only once, kiss him.

Her hands were travelling up his head, clutching at his hair. It was so soft and silky; exactly as what she had imagined it to be when she had the occasional daydream about doing what she was doing at that moment – snogging Draco Malfoy.

Though taken initially by shock, it didn't take Draco long to react. He was kissing and licking and tasting all of her lips, wondering how on earth she got them to be so addictive. Once he tasted them he wanted them again; more and more.

He became dimly aware of his arms wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer. She gave a little sigh of approval, and started nibbling at his lips. He parted his lips and granter her tongue access to his mouth.

Draco began inching his hands slowly up her school shirt. "Where the … hell did you … learn to snog like … that … mudblood?"

Hermione stilled, pulling her mouth away from his and disentangling her hands from his hair. He may have been an extremely sexy Slytherin, (not to mention a darn fine snogger), but Draco was still just that – a Slytherin. They always managed to find a way to screw everything up … just when things were going alright.

Hermione felt her face flushing from the anger that was welling up inside of her, in light of his insult. She certainly never thought that low insults would ever come into play when they (if they ever would have) snogged each other; then again, most of her thoughts about Draco Malfoy were fantasies … simply unrealistic gatherings of imagination that would help her sleep at night and sigh stupidly like on of those mushy teenagers she had read about in those trashy teen novels written by muggles. It was stupid of her to assume that he wouldn't be rude to her.

"Do you know what your problem is, Malfoy?" she asked, now firing up.

"Enlighten me," Draco grinned, sub consciously licking his lips. It was a bad idea; he had tasted her on his lips, and immediately wanted more.

"You seem to think that you own the world with your stupid idea of what high class is. You're a spoilt and arrogant little brat who just manages to ruin anything and everything just a little bit good that comes your way," Hermione reeled off, picking up her toothbrush from the floor, and scrubbing the cauldron once more.

"I'd prefer to be a spoilt and arrogant little brat who's family is at the top of the social ladder, than be somebody who's a bossy know-it-all with no important status and with a completely muggle heritage." Draco replied calmly.

"See? Here it is again, with your idea of what class is," Hermione said. She was on the verge of throwing her paintbrush at the floor so she could just yell at him. "You know, I bet you bring up my muggle background so often because it just bugs you how I manage to top you in every single subject … and I'm not even pureblood."

"Shut up," Draco said in a terse whisper.

"No! I've hit a raw nerve, haven't I, Malfoy?" Hermione wasn't going to be quiet just because Draco told her to. "I've –"

There was a loud creak, and the dungeon door opened. Hermione immediately resumed scrubbing the pot in silence, and Draco stayed in the same position he was in. Snape walked into the room, and gave each of them a piercing glance.

"I trust nothing has gone … afoul … here?" he asked.

"No, sir," Hermione answered quickly.

"I see," Snape said, casting his eyes on the pair of faces presented to him. Seemingly satisfied, he turned his head to Hermione. "Well, I think you've done sufficient work for me tonight, Ms Granger. You may go back to your common room – and do not try what you did again, otherwise you'll be finding yourself back here with a lot more cauldrons."

"Yes, sir, thank you, sir." She murmured, taking her wand from his outstretched hand, and making her way back to the tower.

..:--:..

Hermione had only been walking for a few minutes – she was barely out of the dungeons – when a strong, warm arm snaked out from a statue, and wrapped itself around her waist. Another cupped her mouth, and then the combined force of both pulled her into the nearest dark corner.

She was about to scream and fight her way out of things when she felt a familiar pair of lips against her own. Draco. He had come to her.

Hermione moaned from the feel of his arms around her waist, his tongue duelling with hers, the light suction of their lips together.

"I give my apologies for what I said," Draco said when they broke apart briefly; his forehead touching hers as Hermione heaved in and out ragged breaths.

"Apology accepted," she replied, leaning forward and capturing his mouth in hers for another session of passionate snogging.

..:--:..

Hermione sat at her table in her dormitory, looking out the window. The rest of the girls were asleep with their curtains drawn, and the faint light that was illuminating a parchment in front of Hermione would certainly not wake them up. She dipped her luxury eagle feather quill into her inkpot.

_Dear Draco,_

_Thank you for all the delicious kisses tonight …I certainly want to see you again, too._

_I don't think you know exactly how long I've been waiting to kiss you and feel your body pressed up against mine, as I taste and nibble your hot mouth. Before, it hurt just to think about it, and knowing that I might never be able to. But now that we've already done it, I can't wait to return to you._

_I want you, Draco. Longer than you might have known._

_Hermione_

..:--:..

**A/N:** Review, review! Authors love reviews – especially me. Reviews inspire me to write - I live on them. 

Chapter 2 is coming up soon!


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